


Pair

by icandrawamoth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, First Time, Hand Jobs, Ice Skating, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Otabek is probably ooc... :/, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Pre-Grand Prix Final, Virginity, be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 01:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10375314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: When Yuri goes to the rink to work out his nerves before the Grand Prix Final Short Program, he doesn't expect to meet Otabek. And hedefinitelydoesn't expect what comes next.





	

Yuri wakes before the sun, tension in every line of his body. It isn't unusual for him before an important competition – and the Grand Prix Final surely is that. He just needs to find a way to bleed it off, and that's simple enough.

He dresses quickly and quietly, careful not to wake Yakov, and walks to the practice rink. It's not open yet, but he finds his way in easily enough. It's quiet inside, half the lights dimmed, and he wastes no time dropping his bag by the entrance, tugging on his skates and sliding onto the ice.

Almost immediately, he feels calmer. The ice is a part of him, soothing in way nothing else ever is. He knows he can't expend too much energy here; he needs to save his strength for the short program tonight. He spends some time simply skating in circles, warming up, then does a few passes down the length of the rink, lifting one leg, then the other, practicing his balance. Another pass, and he drills his pre-jump positions, though he doesn't actually leave the ground.

The sound of a door opening echoes across the empty room, and Yuri freezes on the ice. There's no way whoever's coming in isn't going to spot him, and he braces himself for the trouble he's about to get in.

It doesn't come. Instead, a familiar face appears over the rink barrier. “Yuri?”

He exhales in relief, skating over. “Otabek. Good morning.”

The Kazakh skater inclines his head. “Getting an early start?”

“Yeah.” Yuri leans on the barrier and watches Otabek put on his skates and stretch. “I couldn't sleep any more,” he explains. “Too antsy.”

Otabek smiles at him as he steps onto the ice. “I know the feeling.” He circles a few times as Yuri had done earlier, then stops a few meters away and turns to face him again. “Did you ever practice pairs skating, Yuri?”

“When I was a kid,” Yuri answers, confused by the non sequitur. “It wasn't for me.”

Otabek doesn't respond, merely holds out a hand. Yuri considers him for a long moment. He has an idea where this is going. He moves forward and takes the hand anyway.

Otabek moves, drawing him into a pairs routine, a simple practice piece Yuri had done a hundred times back in the day. They glide across the ice together, feet dancing, and it's surprising how easy it is, considering they've never skated together before.

Their hands part for a side by side spin – not perfectly even, but there are no judges here now. Otabek takes his hand again, fingers warm, and diverts from the routine, pulling Yuri in closer. “Loop lift?” he murmurs as they circle the rink, and Yuri nods. _Child's play._

Otabek's hands frame his waist, and Yuri trusts him implicitly, hands bracing on the other boy's wrists as he lifts off. His leading leg bends as the other extends, flying free through the air for an endless moment, Otabek spinning them across the ice, and a second later it's over, Yuri's skates back on the ground.

They keep moving, staying close now, so close Yuri can feel heat radiating from Otabek. His own heart pounds. The routine has gone completely now; they're merely improvising, mirroring each other's moves, and it's easy. Intoxicating, almost. Routine and discipline are Yuri's touchstones, but he finds he doesn't miss them now.

Otabek squeezes his hand, spins him a final time, and they come to a stop, Yuri pressed back to his partner's front. They're both panting, but Yuri can imagine the smile on Otabek's face is as big as the one on his. Then his friend presses even closer, and Yuri freezes he takes in the feeling. Every bit of Otabek is hot and solid against him, and his heaving chest isn't the only thing that's...excited.

It only occurs to him then that his reaction is the same. He glares down at his traitorous cock, telling himself it's only a natural response to being close to another body, to being excited by the routine. (Christophe Giacometti would love that, he knows.) And it's not like he didn't realize it before...merely that he pushed the feeling aside to focus on his skating. Something he's good at, narrowing his whole world to his work.

Before he can stutter out an awkward word, Otabek's hands move. They land on Yuri's chest, spread wide, encompassing all of him, almost possessive. “Yuri,” the older boy murmurs, “I think I know why you left pairs skating. You wanted people watching you. Only you. Yuri.” His hands move, a caress, hot through the thin material of his shirt, and Yuri's heart feels like it might pound right out of his chest. “I've been watching.”

“Ota-”

“Shh.” Otabek's hands continue their exploration, mapping him, until one dips lower – cups his groin, and Yuri shudders in his arms. “Ah _._ ” He doesn't sound surprised, exactly, but pleased.

 _Damn_ , Yuri thinks through the sensations doing their best to drown his thoughts. Is his body that easy to read? In performance, maybe, but now?

“Tell me, Yuri,” Otabek breathes, low and hot in his ear. “have you ever come with hands on you other than your own?”

Yuri moans softly at the words, his head dipping back seemingly of its own accord, resting against a firm shoulder. He won't tell him he's guessed correctly. He won't tell him it's never been like this, never been anything but his own hands, that he's felt thousands of adoring eyes on him over the years, but never _felt_ like this. Never _wanted_ like this. Why tell him what he already knows?

Otabek's lips touch his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “I thought not.” His devilish fingers move again, trailing a too-light touch down Yuri's clothed cock. The younger boy bites back a whine, tries to keep himself from moving into it. “Do you want me to stop?”

Yuri squeezes his eyes closed and tries to calm his breathing. They should. They really should. Someone could walk in at any moment, and they wouldn't just laugh this off. It'd be a scandal for both of them; it might affect their sponsors and their careers. No to mention there's the stubborn fact that Yuri is only fifteen while Otabek is three years older, and that fact could spell serious trouble.

Yuri doesn't say any of it. He only shakes his head. _Don't stop._

Otabek smiles against his skin. “I didn't think so.” Again, Yuri goes stock-still as his hands begin moving once more. His left slides up Yuri's shirt, splaying over his bare chest, the tip of one finger barely brushing a nipple prickled by the sudden cold. The other...the other slides under Yuri's waistband, into his briefs, and curls around his dick. It's warm and damp – did Otabek lick it when he wasn't paying attention? - and, _god_ , it feels good.

“You like that?” Otabek teases as he strokes him lightly. Yuri can only groan, pressing into the touch, urging him on. Now that he has this, he needs _more_ of it. He needs everything Otabek will give him. “Is that how it is?” Otabek laughs softly, and teeth press lightly into Yuri's neck, pulling a whimper from him as his left hand moves, too, rolling a nipple between nimble fingers.

Yuri shudders, caught between too many sensations. He tosses his head to the side, trying to give Otabek more access to his neck, even as he tries to press into both of his hands at once.

The other nipple gets the same treatment as Otabek slides his hand to the end end of Yuri's dick, stroking just the head now, smearing precum over him. Yuri can already feel his insides clenching, orgasm rising, and it hasn't been long at all. He's going to embarrass himself... Otabek's fingers twist, both hands at the same time, and Yuri cries out loudly.

“Shh,” Otabek murmurs in his ear, “you don't want someone to overhear. Maybe we should finish this before you give us away.” His strokes speed up again. “Come on, Yuri, don't hold back.”

Yuri grunts and gives in to the urge, gripping Otabek's arms in an attempt to gain some leverage, thrusting into his grip even as their combined movement has them sliding ever so slowly across the ice. He can feel everything growing hotter, tighter, and then – he chokes out a sob as he comes, and everything goes white for long, long moments.

When he comes to, Yuri has slumped to his knees on the ice. The cold biting into his palms is welcome as it pulls him back to reality. Because, yes, that really just happened. He takes his time straightening his pants and righting his shirt, steadying himself, before he looks up at Otabek.

The older boy is gazing down at him, the look on his face much gentler than Yuri would have expected. “All right?” he asks, offering him a hand.

Yuri nods wordlessly, allowing himself to be pulled to still-shaky feet. Then his gaze drifts down and he sees Otabek's erection, still hard and clearly outlined through his pants. _Oh._ Wide-eyed, Yuri reaches for him.

But Otabek catches his hand. “Not right now,” he says, bringing it up to his lips as his eyes lock with Yuri's. “Maybe after tonight. I trust you feel better now?”

Yuri's face flames. Is that was this was? “I-”

“Hey, don't worry about it too much, okay? I'll see you later.” He starts to skate backwards toward the exit. “Good luck tonight.”

Yuri can't even muster words to echo the sentiment. He's too busy staring, red-faced and trembling, as Otabek disappears from view.

Maybe he _will_ see him after the short program. Maybe then he'll figure out what the _hell_ just happened.

 


End file.
